


Somebody Save Me

by SymphonyWizard



Series: Miscellaneous stuff centered around Chloe and Oliver's son [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Smallville, Smallville Season 11 (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonyWizard/pseuds/SymphonyWizard
Summary: A teenage hero's early efforts are not without a few...bumps along the way.





	Somebody Save Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenixnz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/gifts), [annabella_5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabella_5/gifts).



I study the building across from me.  Claybourne Pharmaceuticals.  Not the tallest building in the city, nor the prettiest, but Hannibal Claybourne is a well-respected businessman and this company, according to my research has done quite a bit of good for Metropolis, where I'm at right now.

Besides building this company, the man has made charitable donations to children's hospital as well as a few orphanages, has invested in affordable housing for the less privileged in Suicide Slums, and has built a foundation that offers full tuition benefits for low income college students.  What most do not know is that he is also a prolific loan shark in the underworld.  The man brings people, particularly college students, in with promises of financial aid, but soon leaves them penniless, or most likely they just disappear.  All the while, he remains on top, reaping benefits from those he considers inferior to him.  

I'm going to change that.  I study the distance between the rooftop I'm standing on and the lower rooftop that I need to get to.  This would be so much easier if I had grapple gun or a really cool cape like Batman's.  All I have is Dad's harpoon gun that I might have borrowed without permission.  He's in Dubai so I don't have anything to worry about.  Though, my outfit is cooler than theirs.  Batman wears black form-fitting kevlar and Dad wears green and black leather with a green kevlar vest.  

My outfit consists of a light, but protective black tunic-like leather coat with purple outlines with a connecting dark purple hood over a black shirt made of equally light, but effective armor-like material that can save me from a slash or a passing bullet, black leather gloves with little pockets all the way around the wrists with little darts, black pants and black leather boots.  I don't have high-tech sunglasses like my dad, but I do cover most of my fact with a black mask.  Given the colder weather, as it is December, I have a layer of thermal clothing under my outfit as well.  My weapons consist of my yew bow, purple-tipped arrows, my katana, and an electric collapsible bo staff.

Grabbing the harpoon gun, I set the sights and I aim for a spire on the roof of the Claybourne building.  I pull the trigger and I almost lose my balance.  The grapple hits its target.  

"Still not used to that recoil," I say to myself out loud as I massage my shoulder.  I secure this end of the zip line to a ledge.  I've used this thing enough times to know how to tell if it's secure.  I take a moment to study the zip line.  The building I'm on--the Queen clock tower--is a bit taller that the building I'm trying to get to, but not so that the zip line is unsafely steep.  I grab the handles and step onto the ledge.  I look down for a minute.  

"You can do this, Johnny," I say to myself with a nervous laugh.  I'm not afraid of heights, per se, but it is kind scary zip-lining from one building to another.  Mom and Dad didn't raise me afraid of much.  However, they also taught me that there is a fine line between bravery and foolishness.  If I don't throw caution into the wind once in a while, I'll just end up getting myself hurt or killed.  "Here goes nothing."  And my feet leave the ledge.  As I zip through the frigid air, my heart races.  Below me, four lanes of traffic and people gathering for their Christmas shopping flood my vision and I hang onto the bar for dear life.  This is so much more fun when I'm doing it at one of my family's favorite vacation spots in California and Kansas in the heat of summer.  The building quickly comes closer and closer and I know when to let go.  I land a little roughly, but at least this time I didn't sprain one of my ankles.  I felt so pathetic trying to explain to my friends why I came back from a weekend in London with my Dad on one of his business trips with a sprained ankle a few months back.

Mom was on a business trip of her own, so she wasn't there to heal my ankle with her powers. 

I barely have a minute to fully regain my footing before I am spotted by somebody.  We lock eyes for a minute, then I see him reach for his gun.  Oh, no you don't.  I am quicker as I quickly grab my bow and an arrow and shoot him in the hand.  Another arrow soon follows and lands in his walkie.  Realizing that he has no way of contacting anyone now, he rips the arrow out of his hand and comes after me with it.

"Hey, buddy you did more damage to your hand than I did," I remark.  Thankfully, I remembered to turn on my voice changer.  I quickly pull out my electric bo staff just as the man reaches me and he pulls out his own baton with his good hand.  The poor moron's blows seem limited to lunges and powerful swings.  I guess Mr. Claybourne's security detail isn't required to have any knowledge of martial arts.  The fight ends very quickly, with me knocking the baton out of his hand and sending it flying off the roof and knocking him out with a blow to his head.  Given my bo staff's electric charge, this guy is going to be unconscious for a long while.  Maybe his baton shouldn't have gone off the roof.  I sure hope it doesn't land on someone's head.  Using his own handcuffs, I cuff him to a pipeline.  At least he remembered to wear something warm.  I'd hate for him to catch a nasty cold or freeze to death.  

I recover my arrows and soon find the exit from the roof and, with my bow in my hands, I quietly enter the building.  It probably would be better if I had had Watchtower to guide me, whether in the form of my mother, or Tess Mercer, but I have studied the layout of this building enough, even toured it once, that I have a more than basic knowledge of where I'm going and how to get there.  I also know exactly where Mr. Claybourne's office it.  It does help a bit that it's one of the penthouse offices.  

I reach a doorway that leads out of the stairwell.  I sheath my arrow and carefully crack the door a little bit.  The hallway appears empty save for a few Christmas decorations.  Oh, businesspeople, at least the ones I've come across in my life, love their Christmas and Halloween decorations.  I take a deep breath and open the door the rest of the way.  

I take an arrow out of my quiver again and as quietly as I can, I make my way through the building.  Christmas is still a week away and they are filling the hallways with the same overplayed songs.  Would it really hurt to at least mix it up with a little more Trans Siberian Orchestra?  Or even play some of the newer, less played Christmas songs?  I guess when comes to the holidays, originality in the music industry and the decorations are frowned upon.  

Although, I do enjoy times when Dad drives Mom and I through the neighborhood to see people's Christmas lights.  I prefer the color schemes over the multicolored lights.  The hallway I am skulking through is outlined by an outrageous display of multicolored lights and wreaths on every doorway.  Is there anybody who works here that's Jewish?  All these decorations for a Christian holiday and so little attention for those might celebrate Hanukkah.  

I'm not Jewish, but still is equal opportunity that much to ask for?

I round a corner and I start to hear conversation through a glass door.  I recognize one of the voices as Mr. Claybourne.  They are taking about a college kid who supposedly failed to hold up his end of a bargain.  They are talking about "taking care of him." 

I do have a few gadgets with me that don't require help from Watchtower.  I also have a meteor power that has so far come in handy in my life.  Before I even started working on getting  _into_ the building, I had hacked its security system as well as its electrical mainframe, so with the click of a button, I'm able to turn off the lights on an entire floor.  I click the button on one of my gadgets and immediately the lights go out.  I don't have sunglasses like Dad's, but there is enough light provided by neighboring buildings that I can make out the people inside Mr. Claybourne's office.  In their ensuing panic, I slip inside unnoticed and I focus my meteor power on the five men.  

One by one, they start screaming in fear towards whatever it is they are afraid of.  I can't plant images in people's heads; all I can do is literally toy with their emotions and in this case, fear and terror.  It also takes a certain amount of concentration because I'm focusing my power on five people.  Doing this kind of takes most of the fight out of my opponents, but it's still a useful power.  Besides I'm on a tight schedule and I don't have time for a drawn out scuffle.  Still sticking to the shadows, having even been noticed yet, I pull out four darts from my gloves and quickly throw them at Mr. Claybourne's henchmen.  I stand back and watch, mildly entertained, as they fall.  When they wake up in eight hours, they are going to have really bad headaches.  I know from experience.

"Sweet dreams," I mutter cheerfully.  I turn to Mr. Claybourne and I relent a little bit with my meteor power, just enough for him to notice me as I step out of the shadows. 

The man frowns at me.  "Who the hell are you supposed be?"

I smile beneath my mask.  "I'm the Purple Arrow and you, Hannibal Claybourne, have failed this city."  

Mr. Claybourne scoffs and goes to pick up his phone, probably intending calling security.  He frowns and glances back at me accusingly.  

"Phone lines are down buddy, and so is your cellphone," I explain sweetly.  

Now both alarmed and angry, Mr. Claybourne's hand disappears under his desk and reappears with a gun.  Quickly, I knock that gun out of his hand with an arrow and just as quickly, I put an arrow through his hand before he can retrieve it.  I fly across the room and haul him up, roughly putting him back in his chair.  

"Here's what's going to happen Mr. Claybourne, you are going to transfer twenty-five million to this account," I drop a phone in his lap, "or things will end very, _very_ badly for you."  The amount is quite a bit, but it's the amount that he has cheated out of all the college students put together.  I might have jammed the wifi, but Mom showed me how to allow a small amount to escape through.  Specifically in the form of an online transaction.  The account number I gave Mr. Claybourne is an anonymous charity fund that offers support to college students, completely untraceable to Queen Industries, or even one of my mother's charity funds.

"Go to hell," hisses Mr. Claybourne and I twist the arrow in his hand, causing him to scream in pain.  

"Your days taking advantage of college students are over, now make the transfer or--!" my threat is cut off by a sound that makes me want to kill myself.

 

_Somebody saaave me_

_Let your warm hands break right through it_

_Somebody saaave me_

_I don't care how you do it just stay (stay with me)_

 

_I made this whole world shine for you_

_Just stay, stay_

_C'mon, I'm still waiting for you_

 

How could I not remember to silence my cellphone?  Dejectedly, I fish my cellphone out of my pocket and answer it.  "Watchtower."

"'Watchtower'?" repeats a very angry voice.  "Jonathan Sullivan-Queen, where are you!  And why does it sound like you are speaking through a voice changer--" her voice falls to a deadly whisper-- " _Are you on a patrol?_ "

Careful not to address her as "Mom", I answer flatly, "I'm trying to teach a lesson to a loanshark with a very stupid Trump coif."

" _Excuse_ me?" exclaims Mr. Claybourne indignantly, trying to wrench himself out from under my foot.

"I'll make this real simple for you, Jonathan," begins Mom in that dangerous whisper of hers.  Chloe Sullivan-Queen is a sweet woman with a snarky sense of humor, but make her angry and you'll think that the electric chair will feel like bliss.  "The sooner you get back here the more I'll consider not taking away your favorite books on top of grounding you."

I gulp.  I'm an avid reader and usually Mom and Dad don't take away my books when they ground more or take away my privileges.  I don't want to lose my books!  As much as keeping a diary helps me therapeutically, I don't want it to be the only thing beside my homework and chores keeping be busy.  But this loanshark needs to be taught a lesson!  

"Save me a slice," is all I say, before I hang up to a shouting mother.  One of the things that was improved when the Watchtower was rebuilt was the kitchen.  Now it's a pretty large kitchen and Clark is able to make full use of his culinary skills.  In preparation for the holidays, Clark made the Kents' famous apple pie.  

"Did you abandon someone so you could come play Green Arrow wannabe?" mocks Mr. Claybourne.

I punch him across the jaw.  "Transfer.  One minute."

The man reaches for other phone I gave him and begins making the transfer.  "You really think this will change anything, boy?"  What gave away my youth?  "Before you even ask, I will tell you that no one talks like that unless they are talking to their own mother."  He grins up at me wickedly.  "I'd love to meet your mother whoever she is.  I'd love to see the filth that spawned such a pathetic excuse for even an amateur hero."

"I'd mind your tongue if I were you," I turn around and I see Dad--when did he get back from Dubai?--and Clark in their super-suits.  Arms folded, faces stern, fingers drumming...I hate my life.  I don't listen to Mom, so what does she do?  She sends Metropolis' and Star City's finest.

"Green Tights, Captain Blue-Bulge, I'm a little busy," I explain emphatically.  I turn back to Mr. Claybourne before I can see Clark's indignant look.  How can he complain?  He wears blue tights and you don't need to tear them off to have a general idea of the contours of his body.

I look down at the phone.  The transfer was complete.  I smile beneath my mask again.  "See, that wasn't so hard."  I yank the arrow out of his hand and ignore his scream as I turn away.  I see Dad fire an arrow and I don't even flinch as flies right past my head and lands with a sickening thunk.  I turn back around and see Mr. Clayybourne down on the ground.  Tranquilizer arrow.

I turn back to Dad and Clark and I lower my mask.  "Dad, Clark." I acknowledge them properly, though as dejectedly as when I answered Mom's call.  

"Blue Bulge, really?" asks Clark indignantly.

"Your tights are blue, _Superman_ ," I remind him.

"And these  _are not_ tights!" says Dad just as indignantly.  

"I'm just using the term that Mom, Aunt Lois, and Clark's robotic roommate, Tess use," I explain dryly.  I regard them both thoughtfully as I stow my bow behind my back.  "Mom told you two come get me."

"Bingo," confirms Dad, not in his Green Arrow voice, but in his angry-father voice.  "And I'd rather not have to knock you out in order to do so."

I take off my glove and check my phone.  It's eleven forty-five.  "Okay, but there is one more thing I have to do."  I also fish out a chunk of kryptonite, warning Clark to keep his distance before he thinks about whisking me away.  

"What are you doing now?" demands Dad, impatiently.  "You've already made a mess, you forgot to silence your phone, and you almost got shot a few seconds ago--so what more do you need to do?"

I remove my hood and smile at my dad as I reactivate the power.  "I'm going to show everybody what a crook this unconscious philanthropist is."  I open the man's computer once it reboots and, utilizing my hacking skills, I get past his login page and go through his files.  By now, I've put away the lump of kryptonite and Dad and Clark seem mildly curious as they come stand on either side of me.  Both are taller than me.  I hate genetics.  I'm probably never going to be as tall as Dad.  I've barely even reached the six-foot mark.  Tall dad, short mother equals a son who is somewhere in between.  

While I work, I take the opportunity to ask Dad when he got back.  He says he got back an hour ago and before he even got to the Watchtower loft, Mom told him I was missing.  He quickly changed into his gear and Superman met him halfway as soon as Mom tracked my phone.  She might have bugged my phone so that no one can trace it, but she never said that that included her.

Eventually I find a file I am looking for.

"Ah-ha!" I exclaim, licking my teeth excitedly as I open the file.  

"What is it?" asks Clark.

"It's a ledger of all the college students that Mr. Claybourne here," I indicate the unconscious man at our feet, "has swindled and murdered.  And now, I am going to post it on Facebook!"

"You're blackmailing him?" he asks, sounding disapproving.  "You already took a damaging amount of money from him, what more do you need."

"To show everyone what a monster he is and surely enough, the police will catch up to him and he will be trading Burberry for orange jumpsuits," I reply as I send a link to Mr. Claybourne's Facebook account and post a nice clear image of the whole ledger with the caption "Read and weep" followed by a smile emoticon.

"Not bad, Purple Arrow," comments Dad, squeezing my shoulder approvingly.  

"Thanks.  Now let's get back to Watchtower before Mom murders all three of us."

Clark speeds me, then Dad back to Watchtower and I barely have time to steady myself before Mom spots me and approaches me reproachfully.  She makes it very clear how worried sick she was and that I should know better than to walk into a situation blindly.  Dad calmly explains to her what I did and her features slowly shift from reproach to that sense of admiration that puts a smile on my face.  She laughs and hugs me, but also reminds me that I can't do this stuff alone.  Even Dad never goes out without Watchtower guiding him.  Oh, my mother and her desperate need to be the one pulling the strings.  

I have a lot to learn about being a hero.  At least, everyone loves my outfit, so I have a few things to smile about.  Some do wonder why I don't wear green.  Shouldn't it be obvious?  It's Dad's color; he's the Green Arrow, not me.  Plus, he already has a sidekick, Speedy, who wears red.  So, why not just go with my favorite color?  And like I said, everyone in my family loves it.

I'm still in trouble for my impromptu heroics, but at least I still have my books and everyone saved me at least half a pie.

Now I just want to sit back and wait for the holidays.  Dad has to leave tomorrow for another business trip (this one having to do with Queen Industries, not as the Green Arrow) but he'll be back in time to help celebrate.  He never misses a holiday.

Merry Christmas!

 

**Author's Note:**

> To those who have read the Sullivan-Queen Diaries, this takes place right before Oliver's disappearance.


End file.
